


lucky

by hydrochaeris



Series: uncomfortable distance [2]
Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Laughter During Sex, M/M, They're so in love it hurts, an overuse of the word 'fucking'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 03:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11245266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrochaeris/pseuds/hydrochaeris
Summary: Zeke would be talking if he wasn’t so busy kissing down Shao’s neck, sucking his collarbone and slipping his fingers down Shao’s bicep to his wrist, moving like he can smooth out the pulse beating fleet and fast there in his veins.





	lucky

**Author's Note:**

> this is technically the second in the series but can be read as a standalone/without reading the first work.

It’s new, this kissing shit or whatever.

Not new-new, not like Zeke is Shao’s first kiss or anything like that. Shao’s kissed girls. It’s the same. It’s not the same. Ever since Zeke got back from Yale—Shao doesn’t know if he’s going back, they haven’t talked about that, they talk about everything but that just hasn’t come up yet—shit’s been different. Shit like how now whenever Zeke gets that soft but intense look in his dark brown eyes, like there’s something pulling them together, Shao is allowed to look back and lean in and Zeke kisses him like a miracle. Like the burst of a fire hydrant on a day’s sweltering heat. Like switching from disc to disc to make one continuous beat. So Shao guesses they’re together. Damn, he thinks they talk a lot, but they don’t ever talk about what they are. ‘Boyfriend’ is a weird word. Gay as fuck, but Shao’s getting better about that. The parts of him that love Zeke aren’t broken. They’re what’s healing him, one kiss at a time.

Zeke would disagree. Zeke would say some shit about how Shao’s healing himself, how healing is a choice and it comes from within and all. Zeke would be talking if he wasn’t so busy kissing down Shao’s neck, sucking his collarbone and slipping his fingers down Shao’s bicep to his wrist, moving like he can smooth out the pulse beating fleet and fast there in his veins. Shao’s new to this kind of tenderness, too. Shit, it gives him goosebumps to think about how Zeke looks at him sometimes. He doesn’t know what that look is, really, just that it’s usually followed by Zeke shaking it off, ducking his head in a grin, and pressing his mouth to Shao’s. God. Zeke kisses Shao a  _ lot _ . He can’t say he minds, but his man is so damn single-minded sometimes, gets focused in a way Shao only sees when he’s spitting or performing.

The hand that’s not holding Shao’s wrist down on the couch slides its way slowly under Shao’s shirt, and he can’t stop the small gasp that escapes when Zeke bites his bottom lip and flicks his nipple at the same time.

“F-fuck.”

“You good?” Zeke pulls up a little from where he’s been crowding Shao into the cushions, grins his big stupid toothy smile.

“Your hands are fucking cold. Not what you was thinking.”

“Mm,” Zeke says, blinking all fake innocence. Shao hates him. He does. But then his face goes from teasing to soft and open. That fucking kills Shao, how fast he switches on him like that. “Hey, you cool with me…” His hand leaves Shao’s wrist to rest above the snap of his black leather pants. Shao lets out a slow hiss when Zeke ghosts the press of his thumb over his hard dick.

“Take my fucking pants off.”

Zeke grins again. It’s his victory grin, and he does it too damn much when they make out. At least there’s more of a reason this time, because Shao’s never let them get this far before. He’s let Zeke go jerk off in the bathroom more nights than he’s proud of. Zeke assures him he doesn’t mind, but Shao knows he can’t be happy about it. And—Zeke is peeling off his ridiculously tight pants and Shao can’t think of anything else anymore. He gets them wedged around Shao’s knees before he makes a cute little frustrated noise and crawls back up to kiss Shao, tweaking his other nipple when he gets there. Zeke’s mouth swallows the sound Shao makes that time, but he knows Zeke felt it because his pupils dilate and there’s some fumbling before Zeke gets Shao’s underwear down too and his dick is standing up against his stomach.

“You still good?”

The way Zeke’s looking at him, this mix of arousal and heat with gentle and concern, it’s making Shao’s brain go fuzzy. He can’t think of any good comeback other than a far too breathy “Yeah,” but Zeke’s too in the zone to tease him about it.

Zeke spits on his hand and finally gets his fingers wrapped around Shao’s dick, jacking him to a steady rhythm that makes Shao wish they had some beats playing so he’d hear that instead. But then he wouldn’t hear that noise Zeke makes when Shao accidentally shifts and pushes his legs up into Zeke’s erection, and that—that’s very worth it.

“I should—” Shao says, breathing heavy because Zeke knows exactly where to touch him and what kinds of pressure to apply there. “I sho—fuck, fuck, hold on.” Zeke stops so instantaneously it hurts, and Shao aches for the return of his hand, but he takes a long breath and closes his eyes and gets his words out instead of begging. “I just, it’s like, you’re doing all this shit, can you get my fucking pants off the rest of the way—” Zeke gets completely off of Shao then, and the physical absence of his weight would probably make Shao cry if he wasn’t busy kicking off his fucking  _ stupid _ leather pants and underwear.

“Your ass looks fucking amazing in those pants,” Zeke says, completely and incredibly serious, and Shao is reminded of why he keeps fucking wearing them. “What were you saying before that?”

“Uh, okay, like, this is kind of our first time doing it like—like, you know,” Shao says, motioning awkwardly to his dick and only kind of regretting it when Zeke looks down and licks his lips. “You’re doing a lot of the work, y’know, I can do stuff to you too. I would—” Zeke climbs back onto his legs, smoothes a hand over his ribcage, and Shao remembers to exhale. “I would like to do that. To you.”

“You are so fucking sweet,” Zeke says, voice so low it’s barely more than a rasp. He kisses Shao’s jaw absently, then decides it isn’t enough and kisses him properly, on his mouth, long and fluid and guiding it with a hand that wraps around the base of Shao’s skull and squeezes gently. The kiss isn’t broken so much as ended when both of them need air from outside the other’s mouth. “Okay, I would love for you to do everything you want to do to me,  _ fuck _ . But right now—this is, I mean, you said it, it’s our first time. And I—no offense—I got more experience with, you know.” Shao knows this is only making Zeke blush because he’s talking about the one guy he got with at Yale for a night and he’s embarrassed his first guy wasn’t Shao, and that’s only making it more enjoyable to watch. He pets at Zeke’s hip and waits for him to finish talking. “I just think—I mean, I just want you to lie back and let me make you feel good. If that sounds good to you.”

Shao rolls his eyes. “You getting me off while I don’t do shit? Yeah that sounds pretty fucking g—”

Zeke says something—Shao thinks it’s probably “Aight, cool”—and puts his hand back on Shao’s dick, this time moving beyond that and pressing the pad of his thumb behind Shao’s balls.

“Fuckin— _ fuck _ , Books—”

“My hands still cold now?”

“Fuck you.  _ Fuck _ you.”

“Yeah, when you’re ready you can.” Zeke says that looking directly at Shao with his big brown earnest eyes and Shao forgets how to breathe. “I wanna feel you in me, yeah? Shit, I wanna feel you so deep, I dreamed about it once. But you know what—you know what else I want, I wanna feel myself inside you, I can fuck you so good I bet you’ll feel it for days and— _ ah, _ shit.” Shao spreads his legs and cants his hips up into Zeke’s hand, pressing the heels of his feet into Zeke’s back. That reminds him Zeke’s still fully clothed while Shao is here in just his shirt, and he moans, tipping his head back and rubbing a nipple through the fabric. Zeke said he’d dreamed about Shao fucking him—the furthest Shao’s subconscious had ever let them go was holding hands, fingers interlocking and shoulders bumping, to think that someday those long fingers might be pressing up inside him—

Zeke licks over the slit of Shao’s dick and Shao pushes him down further, making them both groan. “Shao, Shao, fuck,” Zeke breathes, and his hand tightens on Shao’s dick so perfectly Shao wants to cry. The tears threatening to come are replaced suddenly, frighteningly, with laughter bubbling up in his throat, and when Zeke presses feather-light kisses into the crease of Shao’s inner thigh he starts giggling and can’t stop it. Shao is painfully aware of his youth then, how young he still is now, how he hasn’t laughed like this since he last got stoned off his ass, how he can’t remember laughing at all before Zeke. The tears start welling their way into the corners of his eyes again, and he doesn’t repress them this time. Zeke puts his mouth all the way around the tip of his dick and sucks hard once. Shao huffs and shudders his way through an orgasm—Zeke swallows, because of course he fucking does, and Shao wishes he could keep his eyes open to see how his Adam’s apple bobbed each time more come hit the back of his throat.

“Come up here,” Shao says, mind wanting to drift into the haze of afterglow, but too determined to return the favor to actually get there. “C’mere c’mere c’mere.”

Zeke obliges, giving Shao’s soft dick one last stroke before he scoots up and kisses Shao’s smile. “Whatchu thinking ‘bout?”

Shao reaches down for Zeke’s dick, wraps the other arm around his shoulders to pull them closer together. “Gonna get you off now, since—how’re you soft?”

Zeke’s face positively  _ glows  _ red. “I wasn’t before.”

“You came in your pants?” Shao starts to cackle. “Man, you thought you came back from Harvard mature as shit and a grown ass man and you’re still coming like a teena—”

“First off I went to  _ Yale _ ,” Zeke says, putting on his cutest pout. Shao moves his hand from Zeke’s crotch to tug that bottom lip a little. “Second off, you can’t talk at all, that was less than ten minutes and you came giggling like a child, so fuck you.”

Shao hitches his bare leg up to kick Zeke in the side. “Fuck  _ you _ .”

“You will when you ready, we covered that.”

“Ten minutes ain’t that bad for my first time anyway. Especially with you.”

“What’s different between me and the dozen other girls you fucked before me?” Zeke’s pout is turning less cute with jealousy. “Don’t say the gender, we didn’t do shit that mattered with gender. I didn’t fuck you in the ass or nothing.”

Shao blushes for a thousand different reasons. “But I ain’t got  _ feelings _ for those girls. And fuck you again for making me say that, you know damn well why you special. Stupid ass.” He tries to kick at Zeke’s rib again, but Zeke catches his foot and digs in his fingertips gently at the arch. Shao gasps out a surprised giggle and swats Zeke’s hand off instantly.

“Fuck was that for? Asshole,” he says, but his glare is softened with the remnants of his laugh spilling through his words.

“You got a cute laugh,” Zeke replies, putting his hand on Shao’s chest and giving him that earnest-intense-dark-soft stare. That stare that will probably be the death of Shao someday. “Plus you’re really ticklish, it’s ruining your street cred.”

“I’m  _ not _ ti—” Shao says before dissolving into helpless giggles because Zeke blew a fucking raspberry on his stomach like he’s five years old or some shit. “I’m not—shit, shit, shit—man, I hate you.”

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Zeke says, tracing a soft thumb over Shao’s eyelid as his eyes droop closed. He’s too tired to stop the goofy-ass smile that comes at hearing those words from his man. “Shit, your smile’s too pretty, it’s like all the joy in the world contained on your face. And you get it when I’m just like talking at you, I’m not even saying anything that rhymes right now but the way you looking at me is like—like—”

Shao tugs Zeke down for a kiss with one hand, twining their fingers together with the other. “I used to dream about this,” he says, words safe in the quiet space between their mouths. “Not even you on top of me or kissing me or nothing. Just our hands, together.” He bends his arm up to look at how Zeke’s thumb is cresting over the ridge of his knuckles in broad sweeps of motion, sees Zeke’s eyes follow his own. “Just like that. I didn’t ever think we’d get closer than that.”

“Goddamn,” Zeke says, more air than word, and presses their foreheads together. “I’m real glad we did.”

“Me too.” Shao can feel his eyes closing again, even though he should probably put his pants back on and help Zeke clean himself up, even though letting his guard down still feels unnatural, even though he has more he wants to say to Zeke, about their future and their past and their right now and how Zeke says his smile is pretty but does Zeke know that before he came along Shao didn’t have a smile that belonged to himself, does Zeke know that Shao thought he was dirty for wanting to kiss Zeke and that even now kissing him feels like a kind of contamination, like he’ll always feel Zeke deserves better, does Zeke know that he deserves better, does Zeke know if he talked enough to anyone at all they’d smile and giggle with the same stars in their eyes that Shao has, does Zeke know how lucky Shao is that he came back from Yale, does—

“You’re thinking too hard, conductor,” Zeke murmurs. He runs a finger down the furrow between Shao’s brows and frowns. “Get some rest. Imma go wash the come off my dick and rejoin you, ’kay?”

“Whatever, wordsmith,” Shao says, and pretends it doesn’t feel like Zeke will never come back when the weight of his body lifts from Shao’s and his silhouette disappears into the bathroom.

“I can still hear you thinking from here,” Zeke calls over the bathroom sink’s rush of water. “If you sleep now I’ll be there when you wake up, and you can do that whatever you wanna do to me you were talking about earlier.”

Shao is going to protest, but he hears Zeke sigh, turn off the water, and come back in the room. He’s only in boxers now, which is a look almost as good as Zeke completely naked, which is the best look. Zeke climbs back on top of Shao, shoving him around a little so Zeke can properly spoon him, pulling up the blanket at the foot of the couch to cover both of them so they won’t wake up freezing because the heat’s fucking broke again.

“I’m lucky to have you,” Zeke says, so quiet Shao thinks he maybe wasn’t supposed to hear it, and he shifts more into Zeke’s arms the slightest bit. “I really l—I’m really lucky.”

Shao makes sure Zeke is breathing deep enough that he can’t possibly be awake anymore before whispering back, “Not luckier than I am to have you, fool.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> it's been so long since i've written sex lmao hopefully that wasn't terrible! also like...... these idiots are in love *strums guitar* but they haven't said it out loud like that YET *guitar twangs*


End file.
